To visit Asolo, his brothers' home, And say here masses proper to release A soul from pain, what storm dares hurt his peace? Calm would he pray, with his own thoughts to ward Thy thunder off, nor want the angels' guard. But Pippa- just one such mischance would spoil Her day that lightens the next twelvemonth's toil At wearisome silk-winding, coil on coil! One splash of water ruins you asleep, 70 80 - Worship whom else? For am I not, this day, Whate'er I please? What shall I please to-day? My morn, noon, eve and night — how spend my day? To-morrow I must be Pippa who winds silk, The whole year round, to earn just bread and milk: But, this one day, I have leave to go, Of the Happiest Four in our Asolo! See! Up the hillside yonder, through the morning, Some one shall love me, as the world calls love: I am no less than Ottima, take warning! The gardens, and the great stone house above, And other house for shrubs, all glass in front, |